Chapter 21

Culver

I haven't slept well.

Or, at all, really.

Hannah threw up twice when we got back last night. I managed to get her to drink a glass of water and settled for her finger-brushing her teeth, which she insisted was way more effective than using a toothbrush.

I didn't argue.

I simply guided her into her bedroom, and as soon as I helped her out of her costume, she passed out.

I grabbed a bucket and placed it on her side of the bed. But when I lay down beside her, I couldn't fall asleep. I was too worried she'd be sick and need me to hold her hair again, which thankfully, she didn't.

Her light snoring fills the room.

She's lying on her side, facing me, a few strands of hair covering her face. I delicately brush them away.

I'm glad she ticked off the last item on her hot girl summer list, but man, do I feel bad for the world of pain she's in for today.

I get out of bed quietly, crack open the window to let some fresh air in, and head into the kitchen to whip up a hangover breakfast. She's going to need all the grease and carbs I can cook up.

Once I've got everything almost ready—including a full pot of coffee because I'm calling in all the reinforcements—movement catches the corner of my eye.

Hannah's awake, and she's wearing one of my shirts, but I can't enjoy it the way I normally do because she's sagging against the wall like she needs the support to help her stay upright.

I know I teased her last night, saying I'd be asking her how she felt today, but when I ask it now, all joking is gone, replaced by genuine concern. Because it's her first hangover, and I can tell she's not doing that great.

She drags her feet across the floor to the breakfast bar and flops down on a stool, making incoherent noises the whole time.

"Can I get you anything?"

She drops her head into the heel of her palms. "A time machine so I can go back and deliver a message to yesterday's Hannah that having five drinks is not a good idea."

"An aspirin and a glass of water coming right up."

I grab the aspirin from the counter—I came prepared—and pour her a glass of water. "Here. Have this."

"Thank you."

While she's doing that, I plate up a serving of bacon, eggs, sausages, and hash browns.

"I don't think I can eat," she says as I slide it in front of her.

"Have a few bites," I insist. "It'll help. Trust me."

She picks up her fork and takes a few bites. More than a few bites, actually. She polishes off about two-thirds of the plate, which is way more than I thought she would.

"Why do people do this to themselves?" she asks when she's done. "Because I am never drinking again."

"It was on your list. You wanted to do it. You have. And now you never have to repeat this ever again. Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes. Pleeeease. You're incredible, Culver. Like, you're even more attentive than normal which I didn't think was humanly poss—" She drops her head to her shirt. "Wait. Why am I wearing this and not my Elizabeth Bennet outfit?"

"I helped you get undressed when we got back."

"I don't remember that." She stands up, but overdoes it a bit, gets woozy, and plonks back down on the stool. "I don't remember a lot of things about last night."

"Really?" I pass a cup of coffee over to her. "So our impromptu naked dance in the gazebo? Nothing?"

Her eyes widen. "Noooo. We didn't."

I fight back a smile. "I didn't want to, but you insisted."

She pushes her plate away and rests her head on the table. "Oh, noooo…"

"And do you remember when Doyle came over and joined in?"

She looks up. "Okay. Now I know you're lying because I don't care how drunk I got, there is no way I would dance naked with Doyle."

"You got me." I grin. "No naked dancing."

"Did I do anything…bad?"

"Like what?"

"Like anything embarrassing?"

"Nope. You were fine." I'm curious to see how much of last night she recalls. "Do you remember Fraser and Evie catching us after we fell behind a row of tables?"

Her eyes widen. "No."

"Do you remember coming home?"

"No."

I wince, not wanting to bring this up, but also know that it's the right thing to do. "Do you remember throwing up?…Twice?"

She covers her mouth. "Did I really?"

I nod. "Yeah. But look, it's better that you did. At least you slept through the night."

She blinks a few times. "I can't believe you saw me throw up. Twice."

"Someone had to make sure you were okay." She drops her hands and does a cry face. "It's fine, really. I've been there. Everyone has. And now you know what it's like, too."

"I guess." Her shoulders slump as she releases a weary sigh. "So I really didn't humiliate myself in public? Only with you."

"Yes, only with me," I assure her. "Look on the bright side. The aspirin and food should start to kick in soon, and since we have no plans for the day, we can spend it on the couch watching anything you want that doesn't involve men in Speedos."

She smiles a little at that. "Thank you, Culver. For everything. You're amazing, and I am so grateful for everything you did for me. Just like I'm grateful that no one else had to witness me in this sta?—"

She stops.

"What's that sound?" I start to say when the front door opens, and Katie and Chester come charging in. "Surpri?—"

Silence.

Lots of silence.

It's so quiet you could hear a pin drop…two towns over.

"Well, well, w-well…"

They take us in, then turn to each other and without saying a word, slowly back out of the kitchen.

"We'll be back in a few hours," Katie calls out before shutting the door.

They're laughing so hard we can hear them from inside the house.

With the twins gone after their unexpected arrival, Hannah showers, gets dressed, and starts the long, slow, and arduous process of rebooting into human mode.

I sent them a text ten minutes ago saying they're welcome back anytime and explaining that last night Hannah checked off the final remaining item on her hot girl summer list.

They return with a tentative rap on the front door. I open it. "You guys don't have to knock."

Chester rocks on his heels, clearly enjoying himself way too much. "You n-n-ever know."

"Get in here."

They step inside, and we exchange hugs since we didn't get a chance to earlier. They're both looking well and a bit more tanned, which is nice to see.

"How is she?" Katie whispers, peering into the living room.

"Better. Just don't mention anything about alcohol for the next few hours, possibly days, and we'll be fine."

"Got it."

They converge in the living room, super excited to see each other after the longest amount of time they've ever spent apart, exchanging extra-long hugs.

I've loved having Hannah to myself these past few months, but I also love seeing her with these two. Nothing in the world is more important than family.

Katie and Chester take the two armchairs, so I join Hannah on our—I mean, her—couch.

"So what are you guys doing back so early?" Hannah asks. "You're not due for another two days."

"We took a leaf out of Culver's book and wanted to surprise you…" Katie explains, her eyes drifting down to our hands.

Yikes. When had I taken Hannah's hand in mine? Guess it's just something I do now.

I shift and discreetly let go of her hand and scratch my arm.

"Well, you certainly did that. When did you fly in, Chester?"

"Two d-days ago. Katie and I h-h-hung out in LA for a day, and then w-we drove up together."

"You were in LA?"

Katie smiles. "Twin thing. Wanted to spend some time with each other"—she makes a point of clearing her throat dramatically—"sorry, that's not a sentence I'm used to saying." An incoming pillow toss from Chester makes her laugh. "No. It was great, actually. We got to catch up and have some fun."

Chester looks at his sister and smiles. "Yeah. It was c-cool."

"Oh, you guys." Hannah starts fanning her face. "You're going to make me cry."

"I can c-c-call her a n-name, if that would help?"

"It's just seeing you guys growing up and making decisions and doing things I don't know about."

"Uh…" Katie's gaze flickers back and forth between Hannah and me. "I don't think we're the only ones doing things we don't know about."

"That's…true." Hannah sits up taller, reaches over to take her hand in mine, and announces "I have something to tell you about Culver and me."

"We know," they declare together.

"How?" I ask.

"It's all over social media."

"What?" Hannah and I exclaim in unison.

Chester cackles. "It's f-f-funny. We just s-s-said something at the same time, and now you guys said someth—You know w-w-what? Doesn't really m-matter." He gestures to Katie. "Show them."

She takes her phone out and brings it over to show us.

Hannah takes it from her, and I scooch in closer to get a look.

"Oh, my gosh. They're right." Hannah clicks on a link. It takes us to an article on one of the biggest sports news websites. The headline reads, Palladino's Off-Season Love Match.

We both read the first few paragraphs in silence, confirming that yep, the media has somehow found out about our relationship. Not the fake wedding part since they're referring to Hannah as my girlfriend and not my wife, but it's clear that our story has been leaked.

The question is, how?

Or rather, who?

"I don't understand," Hannah says. She gives the phone back to Katie and turns to me with a puzzled look on her face. "Who would've leaked this?"

The answer hits me like a slap in the face. "Bianca," I grunt angrily through clenched teeth, rising to my feet and storming out of the room.

"How do you know?" Hannah's voice follows me. "Maybe it was someone from town?"

Comfort Bay is full of busybodies, but it's also home to a lot of well-known, affluent, and powerful people.

Why?

Because what happens in Comfort Bay stays in Comfort Bay.

Locals may like to gossip amongst themselves, but no one has ever once gone to the press with anything.

I return to the living room, clenching my cell phone tightly. "The article said we've been together all summer. If it were a local—which I doubt that it is—they only saw us kissing much more recently. It's got to be her." I rage scroll to Malik's number on my phone. "Where's the best place to go where no one can hear me yell at my brother?"

"My bedroom," Hannah says.

"That's the last d-d-door on the left, in case y-y-you don't know."

Katie flings the pillow back at Chester, and it hits him square in the face.

"Thank you, Katie." I aim a tight smile at Hannah. "I'll fix this. I promise."

She smiles back. "Of course."

I hate that she's getting dragged into this media frenzy at all, but I especially hate that it's happening on the day she's dealing with her first ever hangover.

I charge into her room, slam the door shut, and unleash on my brother, who confirms, after checking with his wife, that it was indeed Bianca who leaked the story to the press.

I'm furious, and he is as well. I can tell they're heading toward a big fight, so I decide to shut my mouth and not add any more fuel to that fire. I tell him I'll call him later and leave him to deal with things.

There's a hesitant knock on the door, then it opens a crack. "Is it safe to come in?"

"Of course."

Hannah slowly enters the room.

In three giant strides, I'm standing in front of her. "I am so sorry about this."

"It's not your fault," she says. "What did Malik say?"

"It was her. Probably revenge for me shutting her down at the family dinner."

"You've already said no to her so many times…"

"That probably didn't help, either."

"Do you really think she'd be that petty?"

"She's the kind of person who says terrif instead of terrific. Does that answer your question?"

Hannah let out a small grin. "Tells me everything I need to know."

"And how are you feeling? With the hangover, I mean?"

"Breakfast and aspirin helped. So did showering. I'm, like, seventy percent better."

"That's good."

It's something, at least. I step away from Hannah and rake my hand through my hair, feeling overwhelmed.

My love life has received media attention before, but it's never felt this real, this close to home, this…intrusive before.

I guess that's because, one, it involves Hannah and I love and want to protect her at all costs.

And because, two, I've never had a big secret to hide before.

The last thing I want is to have the media snooping around my life and uncovering that we actually got married just so I could get an inheritance from my grandfather.

"I need to give my manager a quick call," I tell her. "This will be boring. Go hang out with the kids. I'm sure they're dying to spend time with you."

"Are you sure? I don't mind staying."

"Yeah. I am. Thank you, though."

Hannah leaves, and I call my manager, who dials in a few of the exec leadership team from the LA Swifts as my quick call morphs into an impromptu crisis meeting. I'm on the phone so long my phone dings with a low battery notification.

When I look out the window, it's getting dark.

While I've been on the phone, Hannah has tiptoed into the room from time to time, leaving a glass of water, even a sandwich at one point with a note attached to it: Made by Katie = safe to eat, xo.

I collapse onto her bed, exhausted.

The door opens. "Are you done?"

"Yeah." I wave her in. "I feel like I could do with a beer—berry smoothie," I switch to at the last minute since the last thing Hannah probably wants to think about is alcohol.

"So, what's the deal?" she asks, sitting down on the bed.

I 'fessed up and told the crisis team everything, figuring it's better they're armed with the whole story to help deal with any potential fallout from it. We worked through a lot of details, pros/cons, and strategies to deal with any number of situations that might arise, but I'll spare Hannah all that riveting stuff.

"Bottom line, the advice is for us to make the announcement that we're married so we're not caught on the backfoot when it eventually comes out."

"Is that likely to happen?" Hannah asks. "For the media to find out we're married?"

I nod. "It's kinda their job. The story just broke, so they're probably digging away as we speak, searching to uncover new details. It's only a matter of time until they do an online database search and find out we're husband and wife." I glance over at her as she processes the implications of what I'm saying. "I'm fine with suffering reputational damage, but I don't want anyone else getting dragged down with me—you or the club or any of my teammates. So…" I puff out a breath, hating that I have to ask this of her but also knowing it's the least worst out of a lot of only bad options. "Are you okay with us staying married, at least for a while longer, until this story blows over, and then I can figure out what to do next?"

"Your nonna's right. You really do need to work on your proposal skills," Hannah says with a giggle. "But yes, I'm okay with staying married."